


Caught Up Epilogue

by theheartbelieves



Category: Fever Pitch (1997)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Bold Steve, First Time, Fix-It, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Stirth, They love each other, secretly kinky Paul, shy Paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartbelieves/pseuds/theheartbelieves
Summary: It's been a month and all they've done is kissed. Paul is tired of waiting.Follow up to Caught Up.





	Caught Up Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Tried something different for this sex scene. Hopefully I struck a balance between hot and real, seeing as these two have little idea what they're doing and what it entails.
> 
> Unbetaed.
> 
> For Chiara, the Colin to my Mark.

Not much changes after the Arsenal win. They had always seen a lot of each other and now that Sarah was “ex”, they hang out nearly every night, every weekend. There's footie and grading papers while Steve chats at him and watching films until Paul falls asleep, his head in Steve's lap. It's all so very normal for them.

Except for all the kisses.

Stolen pecks when Steve slide tackles him in the park, pulling Paul's hat off and using it to shield the action. Long slow snogs against the door when Steve comes over after work, still in his suit so Paul holds on for dear life to his tie like a drowning man. Hot and heavy sessions on the couch, the telly completely forgotten.

But that's as far as they go. They're like a pair of bloody teenagers, nearly coming in their pants. It's all very exciting and ridiculous and _frustrating_. He doesn't know what's holding them back, but every time clothes start hitting the floor, there's always a moment of hesitation. It's like a feedback loop: he hesitates so Steve pauses, which gives Paul time to remember that he doesn't know what he's doing... and the moment is lost. That line feels so momentous to cross, but Paul can't take it anymore. He's thirty-two years old and the blue balls just may kill him.

Paul wants more and he wants it NOW.

So when Steve gathers himself, sliding his jacket on after tonight's film, he blurts-

“Do you want to stay the night?”

A grin splits Steve's face.

“I thought you'd never ask.” It's only a matter of steps and Steve has Paul in his arms.

“You were waiting for _me_?”

“I know. I was beginning to think nothing was going to ever happen, what with you playing hard to get.”

Paul rips Steve's Arsenal jacket off him.

“Hey, careful- my boyfriend got me that.”

They both stutter over the use of the label, eyes meeting. It feels- right. Steve _is_  Paul's boyfriend. He grips Steve's hips and steers him towards the bedroom, kissing him along the way.

“I'll- show- you- playing- _hard_ -” And he means it to sound like a threat but it comes out like a promise. Steve gives him a wicked look and presses their groins together.

“I bet you will, big boy.” Paul immediately feels himself blush.

“Dear god, will you just-” He kisses Steve to shut him up. He pushes him up against the wall and puts all his pent up energy into the kiss. When he pulls back, Steve looks stunned, eyes glazed and pupils blown. Paul continues, voice deep and throaty, “Fuck me. Please.”

He thinks Steve is going to say something smart but for once, the man shuts up. He pushes Paul down on the bed. He pulls his jersey over his head. It still shocks Paul how _fit_ he is – all flat abs and lean muscle. He swallows hard. But Steve isn't done.

He locks his eyes with Paul and shucks off his trousers and briefs as well, standing naked in front of him. Paul gets an eyeful of every inch of Steve that he's been privileged to feel over the last month. Steve stands there, letting Paul look. His expression is almost defiant, like Paul's going to tease, but all Paul does is hold out his hand.

“Com'ere and help me.”

He unbuttons his jeans and Steve pulls them off, hooking thumbs into his boxers as he goes. Paul's erection bobs free and Steve licks his lips. Paul lets his head fall back on the bed. This man is going to be the death of him. Paul covers himself with one hand as he feels Steve crawling up his body. Steve nuzzles against his hand. He hides his eyes with the other.

“So shy...”

“Are you sure?” Paul asks and feels a huff of breath.

“Paul, look at me.” He does so. “Do I fucking look unsure?”

“Do you ever?”

“I'm a stockbroker. It comes with the territory.” He kisses the back of Paul's hand. “What are you worried about?”

Paul shrugs and gestures with his free hand.

“Well, just look at you. You're gorgeous.” Steve gives him a look that makes Paul certain he's never been called gorgeous before. It's just a slight look away, but Paul knows him too well. He wonders when the last time Steve was complimented and thinks it's probably been a long time. He'll have to remedy that.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Steve skims his hands up Paul's thighs and he shivers. Steve touches his hips, his stomach, his chest, with a look of near wonder in his eyes. He runs a hand down Paul's arm, cupping the hand that hides Paul's erection. “I want you.”

“God, I hope you know what you're doing,” Paul moans, moving aside his shaking hand.

“No idea,” Steve quips before wrapping his lightly calloused fingers around Paul's cock and licking a stripe up the underside. Then he winks. Honest to god, _winks._ “Let me know how I'm doing, coach.”

Still holding Paul's gaze, Steve takes him in his mouth. He's slow and teasing about it. He swirls his tongue around the head of his cock first before sinking down and god! It's already better than half the blow jobs Paul's had. He lets his head fall back and clenches his fists in the bedsheets and tries to stay still. Steve bobs experimentally a few times, shifting on his elbows to find the right angle for the action and then-

He pulls off.

“Paul.” Paul props himself up. “I mean it. Talk to me. Tell me what you like.”

Christ. This is something he's always been uncomfortable with; talking in bed- _dirty_ talk. He lets himself fall back down, stares at the ceiling.

“I'll try.” Steve makes frustrated noise, huffing out a breath.

“Do you like to be licked? Deep throated? Teased? How about-” Steve cups Paul's balls and rolls them gently.

“Fuck! Yes. All of that.” His mind goes immediately to the lube in his bedside table, but no- he can't. The last time he asked for that, he'd been judged and shamed. They'd broken up soon after. That was a solo activity for him.

“No, there's something else,” Steve muses, still fondling. He presses a kiss to the base of Paul's cock. “Tell me... please.”

Steve's voice is so soft and hell, this is _Steve_. He would never judge him. He never had. Paul doesn't give himself time to overthink it. He twists and reaches for the drawer, pulls out the lube and tosses it on the bed next to Steve. He covers his eyes again as he lays down. He can feel Steve shift and there's nothing but anxiety in the pit of Paul's stomach as he waits for the reaction.

“There is _so much_ I don't know about you,” Steve says and his voice is deep and full of dark promises. Paul hears the click of the lid opening and- oh!

“Christ! That's cold.”

Steve mutters an apology and chuckles, then spreads the slickness with two fingers. Down, between- Paul's breath catches.

“Ah. There.” Steve's fingers circle the tight muscle, at first just exploring by touch. Small circles as he gently cajoles. “Talk to me. I want to this to be good. Do you do this to yourself?”

Paul nods, eyes closed tight. Steve presses his forehead against Paul's thigh.

“Fuck- Paul... Do you know how hot that is?”

Paul cracks an eye open and looks down at Steve.

“Really?”

Steve nuzzles his thigh and then peeks up at him.

“The thought of you doing this alone... Do you use your fingers?”

“Yeah-” Steve increases the pressure of his fingers, still making small circles.

“Do you touch yourself at the same time?” Paul nods and Steve grips him, strokes. “One finger or two?”

Steve presses more firmly with one finger and-

“One! At first. Fuck- Steve.” He draws out Steve's name, long and pleading as Steve pushes his finger into him. He works it in slowly, pulls almost all the way out, then pushes back in. Paul doesn't know if he has it in him to tell Steve what he needs to do. He's hot with blushing as it is.

 Then Steve wiggles his finger and Paul gasps.

 “Oh yeah?” Steve repeats the motion, more deliberately this time. He's still lightly stroking Paul's erection and the combination is electric.

 “God, yes,” Paul hisses. “Prostate. It's- it's good.”

 “Would you ever want me to fuck you like this?”

 The heat in Steve's eyes is almost too much. Everything in Paul cries out to say yes. Craves that closeness, to be filled like he likes, but by _Steve_. But nerves holds him back. Steve's _big_ and Paul's never had more than a few fingers inside himself.

 “Let's start with two fingers.”

Steve smirks at him and complies. He'd missed this. The stretch and pull of this. He hadn't gotten to do much of it with Sarah always around. Steve lets go of his cock and squeezes out more lube. Too much, really. It's dripping onto his sheets, but Paul doesn't care because the added slickness makes Steve's fingers slide in that much easier. He wriggles needily.

 “I- Jesus, Paul. I wanna fuck you.” Steve's voice is strained with need. Paul's cock jumps at the thought and he grips himself, taking over where Steve left off. He's panting.

 “Not- ready yet. But yes. God, yes. I want that too.” He can feel Steve shifting against the bed, rutting hips into the mattress. Paul imagines Steve's hips between his legs, Steve's cock buried inside him, Steve rutting into _him_ . He's suddenly _very_ close. He releases his cock with a whine, clenching his hands into fists.

 “What? Everything OK?” Steve asks, stilling.

 “M'close.” He percusses his fists against the bed and tries to breathe, but Steve doesn't give him the chance.

 Steve's hand is around him again. He shifts up and swallows him down, using mouth and hand together, more eagerness than finesse. He twists the fingers inside him and crooks them just right, drawing a low moan from Paul. He goes from close to past the point of no return in mere seconds.

 “Fuck- Steve! Stevestevesteve. I'm going to-” He cries out as he comes, back arching, held pinned by Steve's fist and mouth and fingers.

 He comes back to himself, shaking in the aftermath, and looks down at Steve as he pulls off Paul's cock with a loud pop. He looks Paul in the eye and _swallows_ , then his tongue darts out to lick the corner of his mouth. It's absolutely obscene and perfect. Now that Paul doesn't have the energy to be embarrassed, it's actually hot.

 “I can't believe you,” he mutters, propping himself up. He reaches down and touches Steve's cheek. He turns and kisses Paul's palm.

 “Me neither,” he says with obvious delight and grins. “Good?”

 Paul collapses.

 “No. Better than good. Great. Fantastic. Amazing.” Steve makes a pleased sound and gently pulls his fingers out – three of em. When had that happened? It leaves Paul feeling strangely empty. Steve looks around for something to wipe his hands on. “Use the sheets. They're already fucked anyway.”

“Pretty sure that's you,” Steve says with a smirk, cleaning his hands ineffectually on the bedding. He gives up and crawls up over Paul. Paul opens his legs and Steve settles between them. He's still hard, pressing against Paul's stomach and his waning erection. Paul’s over sensitive but rocks his hips anyway, loving the way Steve's breath hitches.

 Steve kisses him and Paul can taste himself on his tongue. It's all so raw and honest that it makes something in Paul's chest hurt. He's so used to having to worry about what his partner will think of him, that this – Steve openly and easily accepting him just as he is – is freeing. He wraps his arms around Steve and relaxes. The pressure of their hips sending small sparks up his spine. Steve breaks the kiss when he feels Paul getting hard again.

“Round two?” he asks.

Paul kisses a path to his ear and whispers to him, “I want you to fuck me.”

Steve groans and grinds down against him.

“You know, I think you could make me come with just your god damn voice,” he murmurs against Paul's skin.

“Some other time,” Paul says, but feels his face flush. He hadn't known Steve liked his voice.

Steve pushes himself up and kneels, knees under Paul's thighs. He looks down at him and Steve's pupils are so wide, his eyes look black. Paul lets him look. He even stretches, reaching arms up to brace against the headboard. He closes his eyes and relishes the feeling.

“Do you even _know_ what you do to me,” Steve growls. Paul smiles.

God, he's _happy_. He hasn't felt like this in – wow, years? – but right here and now, he's alight with happiness. He looks at Steve and it hits him: yeah, this is love. He can see it plain as day on Steve's face. That look has been there for years. He reaches out for Steve.

“Show me,” he says simply.

Steve pours more lube into his hand, spreads it over his cock.

“Shit- you weren't kidding. That's cold!”

He's smiling but Paul can see the strain in the corners of Steve's eyes. He's nervous.

“Come here.” He meets Steve halfway as he leans down and hooks an arm around his shoulders. He kisses him like he should have kissed him years ago. He reaches between them and takes Steve's erection in hand. He wiggles closer, lining them up. He whispers reassuringly against Steve's mouth. “Just go slow. Be gentle. It'll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Do I look unsure?”

They both smile at that, and just like that, it's easy. Steve lowers them to the bed and Paul guides him. It's _more_ – more pressure and tightness and Christ, is he going to even _fit_? - and then he's flush against Paul, panting.

“Paul- my god, it's-” Steve's eyes are closed tight, but then they blink open, seeking out Paul's gaze. “You.”

Paul knows what he means. He cants his hips up and Steve moans.

“I'm not going to last long,” he warns. “Fuck, it's too much.”

“Then stop holding back.”

Steve pulls almost all the way out, shaking with restraint. When he thrusts back in, he's so careful, Paul wants to cry with the tenderness of it. He also wants to throttle Steve. His erection has waned – It's all too much, too new, too strange – but it's still pleasant. He wants Steve to take what he needs, what he wants. He grips the back of the man's neck and Steve looks at him.

“Fuck me.”

Steve shudders and gives in. He curls over Paul, grips his shoulders, and thrusts with abandon. Paul expects it to be uncomfortable, but Steve changes his angle and brushes against his prostate. It's more than pleasant. He moans Steve's name and the man's hips stutter, he buries his face in Paul's neck, muscles suddenly taut, and Paul can _feel_ him come. Steve pulses inside him, then collapses on top of Paul.

Paul strokes his hands down Steve's spine, splaying fingers over the muscles on either side. He runs a hand over his head, damp with sweat. He kisses Steve's shoulders, his neck, his temple. He holds him and syncs their breathing. When Steve’s breathing evens out, he looks up at Paul.

“Why'd we wait so long to do that?” he muses.

“Football was on.” Paul shrugs and then laughs. They had a lot of time to make up for, but right now it was time for sleep. Paul yawns.

“Here. Get up.” Steve nudges him and rolls off the bed. “Where are your sheets?”

“Hall closet.” Paul sits up and to his embarrassment come dribbles out of him. He wipes himself with the dirty sheets, then gets up, pulling them off the bed. He tosses them into the corner to be taken care of tomorrow.

Steve returns with clean bedding and they make the bed together. Paul can’t stop smiling and it isn’t long before Steve joins him. Having his best friend there across from him, naked and satisfied and domestic- well, it was surreal.

“What’s gotten into you,” Steve asks.  
  
“You,” Paul answers honestly, meaning all of it: the sex and friendship and love. The general Steve-ness of it all. Steve nods and slides under the sheets.

“Stop being a sappy git and come to bed.”

Paul turns off the lights and curls up close to Steve, right in the crook of his shoulder. He sighs, happy to be a sappy git. He knows with bone deep certainty that the next eighteen years would be filled with more than the previous ones. Steve is already breathing deeply beside him, asleep.

“I love you,” he says in the darkness. He relishes the feel of it in his mouth. He presses his lips against Steve’s skin and says it again.

Things are definitely looking up.


End file.
